It Takes a City to Raise a Kid
by H0lmeser
Summary: A series of snapshots of the life of Death the Kid. One-shots. R&R.
1. Of Nannies

Inside to outside: red, then blue, next yellow, and finally green. There had to be an equal number of the letter blocks on each side, and they had to be aligned just so- with letters A through M on the left, N through Z on the right. The letter blocks would never be used to spell something out, because then the colors would mix, and most likely not create an adequate pattern, and this led to displeasure. This specific ritual was done once daily at approximately ten in the morning before any other toys were touched. After the blocks but still before playing with anything else, and routinely, in between playing with each item, small hands were to be washed, while singing the alphabet through to "next time won't you sing with me"- no longer, no shorter.

The boy known as Death's son had a specific routine even in play- one of the many rules his father had to explain to each nanny before she began her likely brief employment for the family. Rumors flew about the father-son pair, and somehow, the previous nanny always managed to warn the present one of the secrets passed down- as if babysitting Death the Kid entered you into some almighty sorority.

"I heard that once, Kid threw one of his symmetry fits for three days straight. _Three days. _Oh, you haven't experienced a symmetry fit yet? Trust me- when it happens you'll know. What's it like? You know how when babies get their teeth- they can't stop crying? It's kind of like that- except ten times worse. Anyway, when Lord Death finally found out why, he knocked down his entire mansion and rebuilt it from scratch so that it would be perfectly symmetrical. Just so Kid would stop crying!"

"Well sure- He's the son of Death. His dad is a giant skeleton- of course he's part demon. Have you seen those eyes? Trust me- when that boy gets mad, you'll notice the eyes. And his hair! Like I swear it's perfectly black, but when he starts to lose it, it's like he's going white already. I mean, I have this friend who has this theory: Lord Death has been around for thousands of years right? So she thinks Kid ages slower than the rest of us- so he's like a 50 years old stuck in a 3 year old body. That's why he's so fussy!"

"No, Lord Death _never _takes off his robe. At least I've never seen it happen. I don't think Kid has either- I have a friend who used to babysit for him, and once Kid drew a picture of himself and his dad, and he was still in his mask and robe! I have no idea why he has it on all the time. I mean, he can't really be a giant skeleton- how did he even get Kid in the first place? That being said- where's Kid's mom? Is Kid even Lord Death's son? I dunno! I try not to think about it, seems a little too fishy for me..."

With each nanny, the tales became more numerous, but they all agreed on one thing- every night when Lord Death returned home at 7 sharp, Kid became a whole new child. Namely, he_ smiled_. Rather than pace by the door like most anxious children, Kid would sit in the middle of the landing between the dual staircases in the entryway (primarily because of symmetry) and wait patiently. Or rather- he looked patient. He wouldn't tap his toes or fuss or sigh loudly, but instead, he kept his eyes fixated on the front door, as though he was in some sort of trance. And when Lord Death burst through the door, Kid would stand up and descend down the left staircase and fly into his father's arms with a look of sheer glee on his face. For a three year old, Kid's vocabulary was incredible, but he spoke minimally- most nannies found this trait frustrating. But Lord Death had a magnificent ability to make his son both smile and talk with abandon. The two would celebrate their reunion at the door for a solid 5 minutes before Lord Death would notice the nanny off to the side, and remind her that payment was on Friday, and that she may leave. And Lord Death paid far beyond typical parents, but for most nannies, the pay wasn't enough to last the job for more than 4 months. The longest was supposedly 9 months, but when she finally did decide to leave, she left Death City for good, apparently because just being in the city was still "too much". But regardless, there would still be some nanny leaving Gallow's Manor at 7:05 PM, just to return at 6:30 AM and start the whole cycle again: vegging out until Kid wakes up, getting breakfast, getting dressed, playtime (starting with the blocks), and so on and so forth.

And regardless of whatever kind of day Lord Death had, and whatever kind of day Kid had, good or bad, stressful or easy (although arguable every day seemed to be stressful for Death the Kid), they ended it with each other gladly- an intriguing sight to whomever would watch the family named Death...

Of course eventually, a permanent nanny was found in an elderly Indian woman named Mira. Mira, like Kid, spoke little, and unlike Kid, had an unending source of patience. Patience through each asymmetry-induced tantrum and every ritual Kid needed tending to- hand washing, light switching, ordering and reordering of whatever was closest, especially the letter blocks, et cetera. In the rare moments she did speak to him, however, she read to him- something that ended the tears and frustration for just a little while. And occasionally she would take him outside (a rarity- if Kid could control his gaze and not look down to notice the asymmetrical rocks lining the paths), up to Shibusen, to visit the boy's father at work. The first time however, happened to be the woman's 9 month anniversary since she had taken up work as Kid's nanny. Lord Death, thought the visit was about something different entirely.

Kid sat on the floor, intrigued by the red-haired man and his finger games.

"So, is everything going alright?" Lord Death asked, in his usual chipper tone.

"Fine," Mira replied briskly.

A brief silence passed between the two.

"Really? Are you sure? Nothing wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You have no complaints? Kid not giving you too much trouble?"

"I have no intention of quitting. There was good weather today, so I decided to take Kid out to visit his favorite person."

"Oh... excellent," a wave of relief washed over Lord Death.

"Although, I have one thing to say."

"Yes? And that is?"

"Kid. He is lonely. Because of his obsession."

Lord Death did not reply.

"He has great fear. It makes him obsess. Since he is the only one with obsession that he knows, he feels lonely."

"...what is he afraid of?" Lord Death once knew someone who was afraid of death- who was afraid of a lot of things really. But Kid was not like that person at all. He was not like anyone at all. He did not fear monsters under his bed and asked far more intelligent questions than they could. Lord Death looked at his son and saw nothing but promise and potential- a perfect shinigami in the making. He saw the one thing he had grown to truly care about on this world- the one thing that convinced him to continue his unending work when the motivation was dwindling.

Mira turned to Lord Death, looking him square in the eye, and responded firmly.

"Death."

And after 7 years of care-taking for Death the Kid, Mira passed away soundly, her soul taking charge and flying to Lord Death himself to take care of.


	2. Of Lines

Lord Death was rarely ever away from his mirror, or at least a mirror- there were plenty in Hallow's Manor so he would never be out of contact if he was needed. He supposed that some businessmen had their cell phones nowadays that they were perpetually attached to- talking to someone through a near invisible ear device and texting someone completely different on the small brick. It all seemed rather complicated to him, but in a way, they were no different. Lord Death was a regular business man. Except he didn't need to sleep or eat like most businessmen did. He supposed that was a setback. That and being a shinigami.

Death the Kid, however, did need to sleep and eat. It was utterly fascinating to Lord Death for the first few days, months, years of Kid's existence how often people, specifically small people, had to do some of these routine things. Lord Death tried them sometimes for fun- in fact he had come to enjoy tea quite a lot- but since Kid had a human body, they were done out of necessity. Eating was a necessity. Sleeping was a necessity. Using the bathroom and washing and brushing teeth and hair were all necessities. Therefore, looking in the mirror, for a reference rather than a communication device, was also routine for Kid. And "routine" for Kid takes on a whole new meaning.

It was a beautiful Saturday in Death City- one of the rare days where remedial lessons weren't being taken place and Shibusen was abandoned by the normal cloud of students, teachers, even Lord Death. Instead, he was at home, for once, trying a hand at grilled cheese sandwiches. Supposedly, they were delicious and simple to make. Supposedly.

Lord Death was fanning the fumes of a smoking, burnt crisp sitting in the pan when a terrorized scream rang through the air. Lord Death froze. There was only one other person in the house right now. One other small, 7 year-old person in the house right now. When a second scream rang out, he dropped the pan entirely and dashed up the stairs and through the corridor until he found the door to the master bath- closed and locked.

"Kid? Kid, are you alright? What's going on in there?" Lord Death asked, trying to remain chipper, knocking on the door. He could hear a small gasp through the door.

"I-it's nothing, Father! Don't come in!" answered Kid, sounding more frantic than he had hoped. "I'm fine."

"Well you sure don't sound fine there, kiddo. Why were you screaming just a few moments ago?"

Kid didn't answer right away. Lord Death heard some sniffling through the door.

"...I'm garbage. Asymmetrical garbage. What have I done to deserve this?"

"Kid!" Lord Death started to fumble with the handle, even though it was locked. "Let me in!"

"No! You can't see this!"

"Kid! Open this door right now!"

"No!"

"REAPER..." He knew this going to be messy- but it's not as though he really had a choice right about now. "CHOP!"

The door to the bathroom was split neatly in two, and with a small amount of force, Lord Death could squeeze his way in. His son lay, in just his pajamas, on the checkered tile floor in the fetal position with a towel wrapped around his head and face.

"Kid, why are you on the floor?"  
"I can never show my wretched self again. I'm hideous."

Lord Death was confused by this sudden outburst. Kid never showed any dislike as to how he looked. He was pretty sure 7 was too young for a human body to have acne or facial hair- so it couldn't be either of those things. Until he noticed- the red towel was primarily wrapped around his hair. What could be wrong with his- oh! Had they finally appeared? He reached down, and with large hands, grabbed the towel from around Kid's head with minimal effort. Kid instinctively rose his arms in an attempt to cover his hair once more, but it was not enough- Lord Death could easily make out the three white Lines of Sanzu wrapped a quarter of the way around a mess of black hair.

Lord Death was only a little surprised- considering it was he himself who made sure Kid had to earn his Lines of Sanzu, rather than have the power of a shinigami thrust upon a newborn. He had even seen them flicker at various points in through Kid's life, especially in recent weeks, when the Lines had started to make themselves apparent in moments where Kid was unaware. When Kid was completely submerged in a book a few nights ago, Lord Death could've sworn he saw a stream of white hairs on the top of his head. When Kid would come to the school so he could be trained in Death God Martial Arts, there were times when the three lines would flicker vividly for moments at a time. But here they were in all their glory, looking rather permanent indeed. Lord Death was always proud of his son- always- but just then it really hit him that he wasn't one of the typical children they saw at the playground or even at Shibusen. And that the Lines started as soon as they did...

"Kid... This is great!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Kid in an embrace the boy was not expecting. "I can't believe it! And they're big too- this is excellent! Just peachy!"

"Wha... What are you talking about?" Kid muffled through the hug. "This is awful! This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, Father."  
"Oh, nonsense, Kid. These are just a sign that you're progressing. You're becoming stronger!"

Kid wriggled out of his father's arms and pointed at the mirror over the sink. "I don't care! Look at me!" He gripped the marble, trying to hold back a sob. "Why don't they go all the way around? It's uneven and it's messy..."

Lord Death felt slightly bad for being so excited, but this really was excellent. Sometimes, he wasn't sure what to do when Kid acted like this- it was one thing when he threw a fit and cried and screamed and drove himself over the edge, it was a whole other thing when he was overwhelmingly disappointed. In himself, of all things. So, Lord Death had to react in the best way he knew how.

"Oh, hey now. They're kind of cute."

Kid's head piqued up slowly, revealing a face of utter confusion in the mirror, as though his father had just started speaking in Spanish. "...what?"

"You're right- let's look at you!" Lord Death put two large hands on Kid's cheeks and poked. "Look at this cute little face with cute little round cheeks!"

"What are you doing to me?!" Kid screamed- trying to push away Lord Death's hands as well as stifle a giggle.

"And all of this hair! You look like you're going to need it cut pretty soon there, Kiddo- how can you even see right now through all of this bed head?"

"Stop it!" Kid was in giggles now, and when he pushed away his father's hands they were gone, smiling through bright red cheeks. "Don't call them 'cute'." He tried to say seriously.

Lord Death also found it adorable when Kid tried to be serious. "They are though! You know I have them, too."

Kid raised an eyebrow. He could count on one hand the number of times he could actually remember seeing his father without his mask and cloak. Lord Death didn't like to take them off- removing it was like removing skin. He had once changed his attire entirely, and that was far too painful for him to ever want to do again. And, in the few times Lord Death did take off his mask, especially when Kid was just an infant, a look of distrust would come over his face, a look that said "where did my father go?". In all honesty, Lord Death couldn't even remember what he looked like under the mask sometimes, and he didn't really care. Kid seemed to prefer the mask, so he didn't put himself through the agony of taking it off. But this was important- Kid needed to know he wasn't alone.

Lord Death took a deep breath and peeled off his mask, bracing the pain. Pulling off the hood, he put his head down to Kid's eye level where he could easily see the three white lines on a pale, bald head.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Lord Death raised his head, smiling at his son with his crooked, jack-o-lantern grin. He forgot how messed up his teeth were. He should probably consider getting Kid braces soon so he wouldn't have to deal with this.

Kid stared at the man before him with a similar look of distrust that he had as a baby. He understood that his father wasn't a giant skeleton, and that he didn't always look as friendly as he looked now. So why was this weird for him to see his father like this? It might've been the eyes- but his father's eyes were same color as his, but they were shaped weird- the iris... Hmph. Kid didn't like being confused, so he reacted in the only way he knew how.

"Does it smell like something's burning to you?" he asked bluntly.

"Oh no!" Lord Death hurriedly fixed his hood and mask and dashed down the stairs. "I left the grilled cheese on the stove!"

"You made grilled cheese for breakfast? Father, that's a lunch food," Kid said, although his father couldn't hear him. He looked back at the lines in the mirror, took a deep breath, stepped over the debris of the broken door, and walked down the stairs too. He wouldn't always react this calmly to the lines, and this would not be the only time Lord Death would have to pull his son out of the bathroom, be it with a razor or a bottle of dye that was sure not to work.

**Author's note: If you liked this chapter, leave a review. If you didn't like this chapter, leave a review. If you didn't read the chapter, leave a review. Also, it's always bothered me that people will draw Lord Death looking like a large kid- like he's basically been around since the beginning of time, do you really think he's gonna look 25? So I made him bald. He's probably wrinkly. **


	3. Of Gifts

**Author's note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews thus far, everyone! I appreciate the feedback immensely!**

When Kid's Lines finally wrapped halfway around his head, both Lord Death and Kid wasted no time in reacting. To Kid, the obvious reaction was to go out and buy an expensive bottle of black dye- the first of many- and use the entire thing to rid himself of those wretched lines. That lasted about 5 hours, until a drop of black liquid slid down Kid's nose and landed in the book he was reading. To Lord Death, the obvious reaction was to begin preparing for inevitable day where Kid would take over as headmaster of Shibusen and resident god of Death. Now, he knew this was morbid, but he frankly had more work to do than the various shinigami before him. Never before had two shinigami existed at once- typically, when a shinigami grew exhausted of his tiring existence (which many did), he would construct a new mask and cloak for their replacement, and in a fashion considered "suicidal" to human beings, would rip his soul from his body, leaving the vessel to decay, and let the soul fester until it grew into the new garments. Lord Death knew he was the first to only rip off a small fragment of his monumental soul to create a small shinigami (arguably, two), and he admitted that he allowed himself to live far longer than his predecessors, as well as longer than he would've liked. But there was no turning back now- Death was most ironically, a father, and Kid now needed his own cloak, his own mask, and above all, his own partner.

It admittedly felt early for Lord Death to encourage Kid to find himself a partner, as most Shibusen students were 13 or 14 when they enrolled and Kid was about to turn 12, but it was a mere suggestion. Well, not "mere", per se- Lord Death was well aware of the romantic relationships that budded from the meister/weapon partnerships because of his school. Kid's nanny had passed recently, and while the boy showed far more maturity in the face of death than other children would have, it wasn't necessarily enough for Lord Death to consider leaving him at home alone, all by himself. But what preteen still had a babysitter like that? It would be easier on everyone if a weapon stayed with Kid during the day just to keep him company, and hopefully, that weapon would turn into a promise of shinigami continuity beyond Kid.

And if the Lines continued extending like they were, then there really was no time to lose.

It took a fair amount of planning, but on Kid's 12th birthday, Lord Death took him to Shibusen for "the best birthday present ever". Kid sighed and shook his head whenever his honorable father used this phrase, bouncing up and down, because he used it every year. Not that Kid didn't appreciate his father's enthusiasm, or every single one of his gifts. (Especially last year's- The Beezlebub- which turned Kid from a proper intellect into a regular 12-year-old with a devil-may-care attitude. Lord Death didn't know if this change made him proud or concerned.) It was just amusing to him to see his father bound up the stairs of Shibusen, more visibly excited about his son's birthday than his own son was. Not that Kid wasn't excited. He loved going to Shibusen for any reason at all, but birthdays were always a treat. When Lord Death would walk through the halls, the waves of interesting looking people would both stand at attention and greet him warmly. And Lord Death would beam back, with a chipper "hey- how ya doin'?" or "nice to see ya!", not at all acting like he was the god that he was. And Kid would watch them pensively, throwing in a few polite "hellos" to see if they'd notice him. Not that he didn't love this lifestyle as much as his father did.

"Good morning, Death Scythe," Kid said, bowing his head slightly towards the older man as he and his father entered the Death Room.

"Hey Kid- happy birthday!" Spirit answered fondly, reaching his hand out to shake Kid's.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Kid reached out and shook hands. "Thank you, Death Scythe," he said, proceeding to wipe his hand on his trousers, as well as the opposite hand after- an action both Spirit and Lord Death had taken note of whenever they were with Kid at various meetings, balls, et cetera. It wasn't anything personal, Spirit had to remind himself, but it was certainly weird. What was he going to do when he had his own weapon- worry about washing his hands every time they came into contact?

"Go ahead and take a seat, Kiddo. It'll only be a moment!" Lord Death called, pulling up his large throne for Kid to sit in. He and Spirit dashed out of sight. "Close your eyes to await the surprise~!"

And so Kid closed his eyes, heart thumping, but remaining perfectly still. Father never let him down, ever, and every year, when Kid would run through every possible gift option, Lord Death always surprised him with something he didn't think he'd ever get, but would come to rely on. It was like his father was so tuned in that he could infer when Kid would come to need something-

_THUMP_

The shock made Kid nearly jump out of his seat, his eyes feeling ripped open. In his lap was a stack of manila folders, and on top, a black shroud and porcelain mask exactly like his father's...

Nope.

This meant more training. Now Kid had been educated in the art of soul-collecting. He easily knew as much as a Shibusen student getting ready to graduate just by being around his father. He had even been taken out on a few missions within Death City as they've arisen, and has a mere toddler, watched as his father destroyed an evil doer from a few feet away. Since getting Beezlebub, he even got a few chances to investigate some cases in nearby towns on his own. He had seen the missions and read the text books and discussed the material at hand and it wasn't this that caused this feeling in his chest. As a 12 year old, he knew one day he would have a responsibility to do what his father did, except be able to move beyond Death City. But these items on his lap meant training, which meant eventual responsibility, which meant a duty to uphold these responsibilities as one of two shingamis, which meant risk, which meant danger, which meant potential to fail, which meant a potential for the world to become unbalanced, which meant death.

Kid wasn't worried about dying. He was a shinigami, and father explained to him that he could withstand unbelievable physical trauma and still live to be over 900 years old like him. Kid also knew he would be a far better meister than perhaps any student based on his shinigami status as well. No, he was worried about the world dying- or specifically- becoming more unbalanced than it already was. It was something that secretly kept him up at night- the idea that somewhere, the balance was wrong. The symmetry was off. Justice was not being executed properly. And he could do nothing to fix it. Now, he had the responsibility to fix it, so what if he couldn't?

"Right? It's a lot to take in isn't it?" Lord Death said happily. "Best birthday ever, right?"

Kid took a big gulp- Spirit took note right away that something was off. Lord Death was obviously excited to explain the articles sitting in Kid's lap, but Kid definitely was not. The stark contrast between the two made him shudder.

"...What's in the files?" Kid asked, setting the cloak and the mask off to the side.

"I'm glad you asked!" Lord Death answered as Kid opened the first one. Inside was a photo of a beautiful young girl with a scythe-blade replacing her left arm. Additional pages in the packet gave her name, age, home country, et cetera. Death Scythe even held a few in his hands, well, because that was the kind of man he was. Kid understood immediately. Father was trying to set him up with a weapon. Specifically, a girl weapon.

It wasn't that Kid was scared of girls. He liked girls, but he didn't _like _girls (yet anyway).

"...and these are the few that myself and Death Scythe picked out. They're the best of the best, kiddo. You could easily make a great team with any of them you wanted." Kid only got the end of the spiel, but it was enough to know exactly what had been said. All of these files were full of young, female weapons, probably mostly scythes, because they _were _picked out by his father, meaning that they were all either incredibly established as demon weapons or they had only just been found- scythes were by far the rarest weapon. And who really cared- Kid knew they were the hardest to wield as well.

"This is... she's..." Kid took a moment to collect his thoughts in a way he hoped his father could understand. "Unbalanced."

Oh no. Spirit struggled to keep the smile on his face. Here it comes.

"Oh Kid. Not this again- what do you mean? I can assure you all of these weapons have the same design on both sides of them..."

"No, I mean I think I would struggle with having a weapon like a scythe. My weight wouldn't be evenly distributed. It would throw me off too bad."

"Then what kind of weapon would you like?" Spirit felt the heat rising to his face. Okay, sure, the conversation wasn't awkward yet, but that was the direction they were headed in, and boy did Spirit hate these kinds of conversations. God bless Lord Death for being able to keep his patience like this...

"I dunno..." Kid pondered. "Probably something I could hold in both hands."

A silence passed. Lord Death took a moment to collect his thoughts and present them to Kid in a way he hoped he would understand. "Very rarely do we come across a weapon that needs to be constantly held by both hands, Kid. Unless you were thinking about a bow..."

"No- I'd be always turned on one side- it'd feel asymmetrical," Kid said. "I think I'd prefer a weapon in each hand."

"You want two partners? Kid, two weapons would be twice as hard to wield and to resonate with. It would be far more difficult than a scythe."

"Fair enough, but at least then I'd be able to focus and not worry about symmetry."

Here it comes. Spirit cringed.

Lord Death's attitude took a severe downturn.

"Kid, you cannot keep worrying about symmetry like this- it consumes far too much of your life to ever be considered healthy," Lord Death scolded.

Death the Kid's head shot up, immediately making eye contact. "You act as if I had a choice in the matter. I care about symmetry in this world because I want this world to be perfect!"

"Perfection is unattainable! You are setting your standards too high!"

"Perhaps you aren't setting them high enough!"

A brief silence passed over them. Spirit identified something in Kid's eyes that he had never seen before. Something that he had not seen before in "the perfect boy" but in his own 12 year old at home since the day she was born. What was the word for it? Not necessarily "stubborn" (although that was Maka completely). Oh right._  
_

_Rebellion._

Lord Death's voice dropped to it's old tone, at least an octave below where it was normally- something Spirit and Kid had only heard once or twice. _"Whatever you think you know of this world, whatever you think you understand, know that you are wrong. I am Lord Death. You are Death the_ Kid," Lord Death snarled, with a bit of extra emphasis on "Kid".

"Why? Why did you have to bring all of this upon me today, then? If I'm still just a kid, then why did you give me these?!" Kid rose from his seat, letting the various folders scatter on the floor, holding up the mask and the cloak to Lord Death's face.

_"Because- because... Because your power is growing, Kid! And you need to grow with it if you even hope of maintaining the balance when I'm not around anymore!_"

It felt like a stake hit Kid in the chest. Could Death die? Obviously, or else his father wouldn't have phrased it like that.

Death the Kid cleared his throat, looking down at his shoes. Lord Death's gaze lightened.

__"Excuse us, Death Scythe. This must've been awkward for you to endure," Kid said softly. And alas- Spirit's jaw was basically on the floor, hand on his chest as if he was trying to prevent a heart attack.

"Father," Kid said, eyes still on the floor. "I'm going home now." He set down the mask and the cloak on the throne, turned on his heel, and walked briskly out of the Death Room. Lord Death let out a long sigh.

When he would return home that night, he would find that Kid had gone to bed early.


	4. Of Hesitancies

When Kid was very young, Lord Death could recall, whenever he had a rough day or even a bad dream, his small feet would patter across the black wood flor into Lord death's study, begging for a story. Not a fairy tale, necessarily- Lord Death had tried those, and they didn't interest the boy in particular- but a story from the past. Kid knew his father had been around for hundreds of years, and would thus beg for information about what all the different people were like, what they did, what they wore, and what they ate. From the Roaring Twenties to Ancient China to Victorian Englad and everything in between- Kid had the voracious curiousity and Lord Death had the answers. What he didn't speak of, however, was the sort of (Man? God? Being?)he used to be- while carefully laying to Rest the souls of the good that died, he also brutally, though masterfully, planned the demise of those who wouldn't get the relief that the worthy did. But sometimes Kid would ask, and Lord Death would lie and say he was like any other meister at the Shibusen- calculating, diligent, and did it all for the good of the world. Well, he was all of those things, to be fair, but he was also reckless, sadistic, and merciless. Every father, as far as Lord Death was concerned, was a completely different (Man? God? Being?) before having a child, and would always have those things that they wouldn't speak about or pray would never become true for their children as well. He couldn't plant in the innocent boy's mind that he was not always the springy, jolly, friendly father that was looked up to by many (However, Lord Death could admit that he always had a sense of humor). He couldn't risk the boy's disappointed face- less a "sad" disappointment, but an "angry" or "ashamed" disappointment. He cherished these moments with the small soul- not as chilled as his, but a comfortable lukewarm- wrapped up in his lap, with that rare face of contentment.

And these little meetings lasted through the years, regardless of busy work days or endless parties with important people or dangerous missions or "normal days". This chatter between father and son was maintained.

But lately, Lord Death had noticed, Kid didn't want to talk much at all.

Since the falling out on Kid's twelfth birthday a few weeks ago, he would treat his father like any of his father's colleagues- polite, yes. Caring, no.

Spirit told Lord Death not to worry, that it was normal in children of this age to start becoming a little more dramatic over tiny things because of the hormones, and that his Maka was just as dramatic. It was something you just had to let them do on their own, he would say. Lord Death found this ironi, considering how much Spirit would worry when Maka had plans with her friends or would go for a mere run in the woods near Shibusen. What did he know about letting go?

Sid and Nygus told Lord Death that whenever Black*Star got frustrated (although he was a year or so older than Kid and Maka, but nowhere near their levels of maturity), it was easiest to just let him run around outside to blow off some steam. Give him something to do instead of being at home all day, Nygus said, with a mind like Kid's, something new to focus on would be absolutely ideal to get his spirits up.

That... that was doable. Lord Death could manage that.

On the way home, he took a look at the mission board for a little, tiny, research-based task for Kid to do. He couldn't take anything too instense because he didn't have a partner, and what good would a gangly, awkward body be against a horrific pre-Kishin? Nuh-uh. No way. There were definitely a few research missions up here somewhere- investigations of potential pre-Kishin were rare, but they happened. Carefully eyeing all of the tags, Lord Death finally rested upon one that seemed like it would do just fine.

It was in Brooklyn, which would be ways away, but Kid did have the Beezlebub. He could easily make it there and back, task completed, in a 24-hour period. The tag called for an investigation of a pair called "The Demons of Brooklyn", made up of two teenaged girls. See? Perfect. Harmless enough. All Kid would have to do is go in, make a few observations of the girls' souls, and return home, safe and sound. Kid would be rejuvenated and all would be well. Peachy. Just peachy.

So why did Lord Deathfeel himself walking slower on the way home to deliver the tag to Kid? Now here he was- the one who told Spirit he worried too much about Maka- being the hypocrite. How embarassing. even so, Lord Death found himself stepping cautiously through his own home, whih suddenly felt too large for one person to be in all by themselves for most of the day. Outside of perhaps a few errands, Kid rarely left aGallow's Manor. Maybe that's why the sudden push to work was such a shock to him- he barely left his house. Kid was so painfully nervous, Lord Death thought, he had to wash his hands after touching most anything. When he was on edge, he would begin to claw at the stripes on his head, probably hoping he could rip them off. He did all of his own laundry because he was afraid someone else would do it wrong. He could clean the house in a day easily, until he realized that something was off by a few centimeters, and had to spend another day fixing it. And yet, when Lord Death would peer in his room before leaving for work, Kid would be sprawled on his bed, limbs every which way, bed completely untidy, sleeping completely sound. Only Kid was capable of looking Death square in the face and scolding him for eating sweets before dinner. Only Kid could run a house without complaining.

Only Kid could do this mission.

Well, actually, Lord Death knew a lot of other people could do this mission, but if felt right in the train of thought.

Stopping in front of Kid's door, Lord Death quickly scribbled a message on the back of the tag and slid it underneath. The lights were out, so Kid was porbably pretending to be asleep. In the morning, when Kid would arise and rub the sleep from his eyes, he would find the mission with it's message on the floor. It read as follows:

_Kiddo,_

_Just a small mission I thought you'd might have fun with. Stop by the Death Room before you leave to say good-bye to your old man before you shove off._

_Dad_


	5. Of Sisters

Death the Kid was entirely unaware of how much his father worried about him (or at least he was at this point in his life)- and how was he supposed to know? Father had the school to worry about, he had the fate of the world resting upon his shoulders- why should he be worried about a 12-year-old boy? He never _seemed _stressed, although he also never seemed anything other than over-flowing with shining enthusiasm. Kid didn't think his father was too worried about him, but he did know that if Dad knew about his methods thus far in the mission, he would actually have conniption and pass out in horror. Then again, to be fair, the work he needed to do for the mission was over, and this was more of a... side project, if you will. He got all the necessary information on the terrifying Demons of Brooklyn, and now he was going to make them his. Weapons, that is.

When Kid woke up to find the tag on his bedroom floor, he prepared immediately, his analytic, planning side abruptly taking over. The tag mentioned a few important details about the sisters- namely that they were equally dangerous as they were beautiful. To Kid, beauty meant order, and order meant getting down to business. And if he really meant business, why shouldn't he wear his good suit? He hardly ever wore this one, since he really had no purpose for a full blazer in day-to-day life, and the skull broach was admittedly a little indulgent for Lord Death's son to wear for fun. But why should he not be proud of his status on missions? Why should everyone not know that he was a shinigami?

Well his little choice in outfit got him noticed right away by his targets, and they had no difficultly whipping the boy off his skateboard and throwing him up against an unforgiving brick wall. Who rides through an alley that's typically avoided in a full, specifically tailored, extremely expensive suit? Death the Kid does.

But it was up against that brick wall (one that scuffed his good blazer, mind you) that Kid watched both sisters display their physical strength as well as their c_ompletely symmetrical _weapon forms. So while the tall one snarled at him through her charred cigarette and the shorter one sneered and laughed like his potential demise was a circus act, he wasn't scared. He was utterly blind-sided by their ability to work together, with the obvious care they held each other but not themselves, and their utterly, completely identical gun appearances. Kid definitely liked the idea of guns, and he definitely liked having two partners. Two more people around the house...

It wasn't that Kid didn't like girls, he just didn't _like _girls (yet), but he also never considered one beautiful before, let alone two.

So when the the tall girl nudged his chin with the laughing gun, he threw his wallet on the ground. And when she jabbed him one more time in the stomach, he pretended it hurt more than it did, and fell to the ground. And Kid carefully watched her as her dead eyes flashed something human, and she gracefully snatched up the wallet and took off running in one fell swoop down the alley and around the corner.

Phase 1: complete.

* * *

It hadn't been a sudden change, as it had been few months coming, but Liz was starting to see something different in Patty, and it scared her immensely. She not only laughed when things weren't funny, such as now, when they were just walking down the street, but had this frightening little chuckle. It was maniacal, really. Patty had a fun sense of humor for someone who grew up like they did, but lately her eyes had grown wide and beady, and rarely ever blinked. She wasn't sleeping well, and when the pair actually had food, she wouldn't eat. Liz being a year or two older had actually experienced the childhood Patty did not receive, and thus took it upon herself to take care of her baby sister when they had been abandoned. But this _strangeness _that had come over her- what if it was something Liz couldn't take care of? Was it some weird kind of cold? Liz wasn't sure, and while the fear made her quiver in anxiety, it also made her bitter with the world for forsakening it's most beautiful child.

Earlier that day, Liz had caught wind of a small group of mobsters planning to torch a string of convenience stores on _their_ turf from a sunken-eyed man who they could consider their "back-up". He, like all the others who offered to help the sisters, would grab either by the hip, leading them with a slightly manic "Girls. _Girls. _Would I e_ver _steer my_ beautiful_ girls the wrong way?". But he, like all the others, had other things in mind, and reluctantly, Liz let him plant a kiss on her cheek after she left with all the necessary information about the crime that was supposed to take place. No way was Liz preventing this crime to help the owners of the convenience stores- never. She and Patty just happened to jump a fair number of it's customers as they were leaving, and if the stores were torched, there wouldn't be any customers. So here they were, walking casually down the sidewalk, preparing for a brief, but probably brutal, alley fight. Not that you'd know by looking at Patty- she couldn't stop chuckling.

The usual alley- the one just outside two of the convenience stores- was stark empty. Not even a rat scuffled through the garbage. At first Liz was just annoyed, until that familiar anxiety came over her and she realized this could be a trap. No. No no no. To Patty's surprise, Liz's breathing became hitched, as she turned around frantically. There was another moment of silence before at least 20 men in slick pinstripe suits entered from each side. 20 men, who looked familiar for some reason... No. No no no. Liz and Patty had jumped all of these men. This Patty knew immediately- she never forgot a face, and she never forgot the face of these men as she had dug her sister gun into their faces. With one glance, Liz and Patty were on the same page. They would probably die here.

And so they took off down the only open alley, which they knew led to dead end, but not without a turn or two first.

"Hey! Wait, you!" a husky voice called out from behind.

"We looked down on you because you were girls, but now, we're gonna give you everything we've got!"

But the two girls sprinted on, until Liz tripped on a stray bottle and slammed to the ground, her hip crying out in pain.

"_Liz!_" Patty came to a steady halt.

"Run for it, Patty!" Liz protested, struggling to stand up on her own. "If they catch us, they're not gonna let us off easy!" But as Liz started to rise, the mob members caught up, and with only an unforgiving brick wall to turn to, the sisters grabbed each other by the hand and prepared for the worst. 2 against 20. Patty liked those numbers, and turned into a gun the first moment she got, eliciting gasps from the crowd. Liz, however, let the anxiety subside for a moment, and let her bitterness fester instead. These men would die, and then she would rip their souls in half...

One man down.

What?

Another two, sprawled on the pavement in pain.

What was happening?

Three, four, five- flashes of light would go off and would leave the mobsters passed out on the cement. Or- were they flashes of light? Liz wasn't sure why, but her head was spinning, and for some reason, it looked like a little person was taking on all these punks on their own.

Before long, all of them lay moaning on the ground, whining: "We didn't hear anything about the Brooklyn Demons having back-up like this..."

Back-up. This had all been set up by their back-up, Liz scoffed. But through the confusion and the tingling fear, she choked out "...we're saved." Patty, hearing this, returned to her human self.

A few feet in front of them was a lanky figure, dusting his hands off on his pants as the once notorious mobsters scurried away in fear. Before Liz even had the opportunity to lash out at this unwanted presence, he turned on his heel to reveal his young face- it was the freak boy from earlier, as both sisters could identify immediately. The one with a the goofy hair and the fancy clothes, but a very stocked wallet containing an interesting ID card. What could he possibly want? Another pounding?

"You two are _beautiful!" _The boy said with a smile. No. Liz hated that word. But he continued on. "I'm going to be creating a perfect world, and I'd like you two to become my left and right hands!"

What even?

"Sis!" Patty turned to her sister, looking a little less manic than before. "He says we're beautiful!"

"Sh..." Liz stumbled on her words. _Beautiful. _"Shut up. We're used to hearing that. Don't be so happy about it."

"I'm a Shinigami," said the boy, in a way she had only heard grown men speak. "I came from Death City after hearing about your infamy and beauty."

Okay- who was this guy? And why did he keep talking about beauty? No. No no no. But Liz decided to choose her words carefully: "Shinigami?"

This kid's identification card had "shinigami" plastered on it somewhere, she could remember, and it was made to look glittery and important, in all capital letters. Now Liz had heard stories of a school in the heat of Death Valley, Nevada for people like her and Patty run by a "shinigami" (what a weird word, but Liz knew the meaning)- but this kid claimed he was one too? He was a few years younger than Patty, Liz could tell by his still round cheeks, and his sincerity and overall naivety in his voice suggested he was being honest.

_"If he's a shinigami,"_ Liz thought to herself._ "He's got to have lots of money... a richie-rich like that came here to make use of us?!"_

A fantasy washed over Liz's brain and teased her with ideas for the future. _"If we go to the Shinigami's house,"_ she shouted, internally, _"I can get Patty some cute dresses to wear! And I can let her eat delicious things to her heart's content every day! And after a soothing bath, I'll put her to bed in a fluffy futon! Not even a futon- a real bed!"_

Liz hadn't noticed, but several moments had passed between the three, although neither her sister nor the Shinigami were perturbed by it. She was reminded of another girl

"Well, how about it?" The boy said, with a knowing grin. "Will you come with me?"

"Sis! Say something!" Patty squealed.

"Patty!" Liz looked to her sister. "Cinderella! We're going to be Cinderellas!" A maniacal grin became plastered to Patty's face, and she stuck out her hand to the boy who looked like he didn't quite know what to do with such a forceful gesture.

"I'm Patty Thompson- and this is m' big sister, Liz!"

"My name is Death the Kid, although typically, I just go by Kid." he said in reply, gripping Patty's hand to shake, and then Liz's. A shock of cold danced up her arm and down her spine. _Like Death._ But only Liz had felt it, clearly, as this Kid didn't seem to be annoyed by it at all. However, he did, strangely, wipe the hand off on his pants. And then proceeded to wipe off the other one that didn't shake hands. Liz rolled her eyes at the stupid name and at "Death the Kid's" obvious distress at touching what was probably a peasant to him. _How rude._

"Come along," Death the Kid ordered, turning his back to the girls and expecting them to follow.

_"Shinigami..." _Liz thought. _"Finally our luck has changed! All thanks to you, you shitty brat. I bet you've never seen hardship in your entire life... Just you wait. I'm just gonna squeeze you and squeeze you until you're dry. Then we'll see whose _beautiful _then."_

__"Patty, behave yourself for a little while," said Liz sternly, while wrapping an arm around her sister.

Without blinking, Patty pulled into a cheeky grin. "Got it."

"What are you doing?" said Kid, who had already begun walking away. "Hurry along, now."

"Yeah. Sorry."

Kid and Liz left together but in two different mindsets.

Liz scoffed at the idea of this spoiled boy being a Shinigami, and began to plot about how to take his power and his money.

But for Kid however, this was just phase 2: complete.

**Author's note: If you liked this chapter, leave a review. If you didn't like this chapter, leave a review. **

**I took most of the dialogue from the english translation of Soul Eater, Chapter 78 on for optimum accuracy- please appreciate those fine translators if you ever get the chance.**


	6. Of Demons

In the days that followed, it wasn't Patty who needed that initial warning to behave. It was Patty who whipped open giant double doors to Gallow's Manor for the first time and voraciously explored all corners, thrilled because she couldn't remember being anywhere so big before, let alone live there. And as Patty bounded about the house, followed by Kid, intent on keeping everything neat and tidy, it was Liz who stayed behind, feeling lost in the front hall. She noticed immediately what her sister had ignored- everything was equal on both sides of the room, decorated with a monochromatic theme: alabaster and onyx, ivory and ebony, eggshell and charcoal.

"Since we'll be living together, there's something in particular that you two must know about me," Kid had said, sitting with the girls at some tiny diner on the outskirts of some Kansas town. "You'll find that I have a bit of an... obsession with keeping things neat and orderly. Specifically- keeping thing symmetrical. This is why I chose you two as my weapon partners, because you can turn into twin pistols and I can be equally balanced on both sides. So I may ask certain things of the two of you and please just know that it's so I can maintain my normal state of mind with minimal panic."

Liz had piqued an eyebrow at this confession, and let it fly in one ear and out the other. The earnest, albeit mature look in this kid's freaky golden eyes as he explained to them his way of life in Death City and maintaining balance in the world had almost been enough to make Liz want to barf, so she watched Patty instead, and the way she listened ardently. It hadn't really hit Liz how much her life was about to change from the cold, bitter walls of the alleyway back in Brooklyn she and Patty would call home some nights. Kid's home was just as cold, but different in more ways than the obvious. Looking around, it became clear- it didn't seem as though people really lived there.

Kid had briefly mentioned he had a father, yes, but judging by their home and it's lack of dust or dirt or smudge- it was more like a museum. Somewhere where parents would hold their children's hands tighter so none of the beautiful, ancient, expensive items would risk being broken. Like even the slightest breath would be enough to make the crystal chandelier over head fall and shatter. It was neat. It was orderly. It was symmetrical. It was equally balanced on both sides. Could people actually live here? Kid and his father might as well have been ghosts. Dead.

It was a stark comparison to the rugged and obviously used streets of Brooklyn, where every inch painted the lives of the people who had occupied that space, if only for a moment. Where Kid's home was quiet, the streets had been screaming. Could people actually live there either? The folks who had made those screaming streets their homes- they were equally ghost-like. They might as well have been dead. They had felt dead.

And the typical anxiety welled up in Liz at the thought of her or her sister dying and she decided she needed a smoke. And without a second thought, she popped a cigarette in her mouth, took a seat on one of the adjacent benches on either side of the wide entrance hall, and listened to the patter of feet as Kid chased down Patty upstairs, hearing a few glass articles shatter and a few brief yelps.

"Oh, and I'll have my wallet back now," Kid had said, back at the dull little diner, holding out a hand expectantly. Liz had said nothing and just narrowed her eyes in response. She glared into the depths of those golden eyes and how they looked terribly old and distant for such a small body, and they glared back as if they were preparing for some kind of mental stalemate. Was she actually doing this right now? Pondering the idea of just running out now with the 800 dollars in her back pocket? Yes. Yes she was. And she could feel Kid knowing that.

"Sis, give Kid back his wallet! He has to pay for the food!" said Patty, like a child. And without breaking eye contact, Patty's voice had made Liz reach into her jeans pocket, pull out the leather, and place it into the hand that had not been willing to retreat.

No, it was Patty who would follow Kid blindly. It was Liz who needed the reminder to behave herself.

"Kid? Kiddo? Are you back from your mission already? What's all that noise about? And that smell?" Liz heard a voice from down the hall behind her. It sounded like a goofy old man- typical- of course the rich brat would have a dad old enough to be his grandfather. He probably built this city, became super rich off of it, settled down with a pretty young woman and had the stupid son of a bitch that was chasing Patty around right now. And then collected souls, or whatever Kid had been talking about at the diner...

"...Oh hello. Who are you, might I ask?"

Liz flicked her cigarette off to the side, before she turned to face the owner of the voice... and dropped the cigarette. Before her was no old man. Before her was some kind of evil spiky demon _thing _who was giant and had even more giant hands (all the better to strangle her with). Liz did not move. She did not breathe. She only stared into the depths of the demon's skull and felt it's freezing aura curl around her bones.

Liz knew. Shinigami meant "grim reaper". Grim reaper meant _this thing was going to kill her._

"Hi there! I'm Lord Death!"

Liz let out a shrill, piercing shriek.

"Sis! Are you okay?!"

"Liz?!"

Two sets of feet scurried from upstairs into view on the landing between the twin staircases. When Patty saw Lord Death, her face morphed from sweet child into what it looked like on the colder nights in Brooklyn- apathetic and tired. Kid, however, looked slightly amused.

"Hello, Father. How is Shibusen?" said Kid, completely calm and relaxed as though he wasn't _talking to any kind of demon.__  
_

"Shibusen is just fine. And I see your mission was... successful?" said Lord Death, looking confusedly between the pair of sisters: the one holding a hand over her mouth in front of him, and the one looking like she was about to fall apart on the stairs.

"Extremely successful. I got all of their necessary information, but I doubt they'll be needing it, as I hope to keep the Thompson sisters as my weapon partners."

Keep? Patty scoffed, and wondered if her sister was thinking what she normally would've if she hadn't just had the crap scared out of her: Kid used "keep" as if he had brought home two stray kittens instead of two stray demon weapons.

Lord Death knew he had to now choose his words carefully, because despite their being pre-Kishin and all, he didn't really want to offend the Thompson sisters in any way.

"Look Kid, we should talk about this tomorrow, but for now, it's awfully late, and we need to get these two to some rooms! You all must be awfully tired after your little trip home!"

And so Kid casually strolled down the stairs, took a frozen Liz by the arm and led her and Patty down the upstairs corridor that seemed to go on forever. He paused at a set of rooms that were on the whole, separate, but were connected to one another through a luxurious bathroom. Kid said that there were a number of unused bedrooms in the mansion, and that they could take any of them if these did not suit their tastes. Liz shrugged at the pale walls, but Patty wasted no time running and jumping on the huge fluffy bed, and suddenly Liz felt like maybe she could get used to it. And despite the fact they had two rooms, Liz and Patty would spend the next few weeks together in one bed, keeping the adjacent window open to let in the warm, Nevada air.

* * *

Kid knew this conversation would have to come as soon as he even thought of making Liz and Patty his weapon partners. Stepping into the Death Room at Shibusen, he was mentally rehearsing the argument he would have to give his father so that the sisters could stay. Strange. Kid had never felt quite this- oh what was the word- obligated? Devoted? to anyone other than his father before. Mira had been a second- as she was the grandmother like figure he had spent 5, sometimes 6 or 7, days a week with for 7 years of his young life. Death Scythe and Sid and Nygus- he definitely didn't feel this sort of obligation to them, although he did respect all of them. No, for some reason, he was willing to argue on behalf of the Thompson sisters already, for a reason far beyond his understanding.

"Kid?" called Lord Death, from in front of his mirror. "Come take a seat in the chair." And so Kid pseudo-confidently stepped across the floor and sat down.

"Look, Father, I know this isn't what you were expecting but-"

"I just want you to know how excited I am that you finally picked yourself partners!"

What? Well there goes the script Kid had.

Lord Death turned around to face his son. "I mean, they're going to need some breaking in for sure, and it's going to be a little time before they can be considered normal again, but I think since they're still children, it'll be able to reverse the madness that qualifies them as pre-Kishin."

"Wait... so you aren't mad?" Kid asked, looking strangely horrified.

"No, no! I'm thrilled! Even if they're going to be a challenge, perhaps they'll wind up being a good fit for you, Kid. Who really knows?"

"Oh. Alright then," Kid cleared his throat. "Thank you, Father."

Lord Death shrugged, and continued to chatter excitedly. "Don't thank me yet. You have a lot of work in front of you, Kid. I want the older one to stop smoking- the last thing I want are those death sticks clogging up my house. The younger one seems to have an affinity for breaking things as well, something else you'll have to keep under control. You should know I talked to a local cafe owner- Master- you've met him before. He said he'd do us the favor of letting the girls serve their probation time by working for him-"

"Probation? Wait- so you _do _have a problem with them!" Kid yelped excitedly, as if he had captured a rat in a trap.

Lord Death's chipper tone did not change with Kid's attitude. "Well of course I do! I'm just trying to make the best of it, you know."

"Oh. Of course. Continue."

"Anyway, they'll be working for him for the next two months or so. And if they fail to meet expectations, then I will have no reserves in sending them home. But otherwise, I'm sure they're lovely girls deep down!" Deep, deep, deep, deep, _deep _down.

**Author's note: holla holla for a little bit of Soul Eater Not! canon thrown in there. Anyway, leave a review if you liked this chapter. Leave a review if you didn't like this chapter.**


	7. Of Nights

It was an interesting turn of events, Lord Death had observed, that the child that had once thrown fierce temper tantrums had come to embody patience towards whatever the Thompson sisters could throw at him (both figuratively and literally). The girls almost seemed to be testing Kid in a way unspoken, and much to their distress, he passed every time. He never panicked, he never worried, and was always refined in his attitude- at least until something became asymmetrical, anyway. But because of Kid's control, Lord Death figured he'd entrust this solely to him, and engage minimally. Some nights he would come home to a silent, peaceful home, with three children sitting more or less contentedly, and on rare nights, almost enjoying each others' presence. Most often, he would come home to an equally silent house, but come to find that the sisters were sulking up in their rooms, and Kid was busying himself with other matters, as though they were not mad at him. Occasionally, Lord Death would come home to one of the sisters throwing a fit (the younger sister rarely did this, and was more likely to be found with blank eyes, which was slightly more horrifying), and some nights, he would come home to find all three screaming bloody murder.

At any rate, while the girls inched towards their quota with much difficulty and suffering to Master's business, it was fascinating to watch the already close-knit, fiery Thompson souls begin to hesitantly warm-up Kid's colder, more sure soul. How it was even happening, Lord Death still didn't quite understand, since the eldest sister and Kid seemed to always be at odds, but regardless of how either felt, they were beginning to become in-tune to one another's wavelengths. And the bridge that was connecting them seemed to branch out from the younger sister. Through her, the three had the potential to be great partners.

Liz hated the idea of it though. She hated the idea of staying here any longer and she hated that s_tupid _brat and his stupid obsessions and his stupid plans to _tame_ them or something. Why hadn't he given up yet? Like she even asked for this _prison_ life. Liz didn't need him to swing in a rescue her and Patty like he was a knight in shining, symmetrical armor. Like he would be the one to take care of them- to take care of Patty. But like Liz had promised hersister, they had become Cinderellas- working their fingers to the bone for some snot-nosed rich kid, still dreaming of salvation when things were supposed to be looking up. Things hadn't really changed at all though- they continually broke curfew and got into fights with other snot-nosed brats- not all that different from New York. The only difference between Death City and Brooklyn, outside being under the watchful eye of an OCD 12 year old, was the weather and their bed(s). Even the names meant the same thing to Liz.

One night in particular, which was just one in a string of coming home past midnight, one where Kid hadn't waited up for them or left them dinner, and the tracking bracelet on Liz's wrist was especially taunting, she posed a question to her sister:

"Patty, do you want to stay here?"

Patty had been in one of her trances again, where she wouldn't blink. Admittedly, since arriving in Death City, Patty had been eating more and sleeping better, but something was missing, and above all, something was consuming her. Liz could feel it on the late nights when they lay side by side, Patty drifting off into sleep. Patty's soul put up a wall of some kind, and wouldn't resonate fully like it normally didn't when she fell asleep. Why Patty even felt the need to put a wall up was something Liz still didn't quite understand, since the two had never been anything but completely entrusting to one another.

This night though, as she pulled two plates out of the cupboard, Patty blinked a few times and took a breath before answering Liz's question.

"Eh, I don't really know. I guess I do."

A sea of dread filled Liz's stomach. She reached into the fridge and grabbed the jelly as Patty went into the pantry and grabbed bread and peanut butter.

"Why, Patty? What's here for us, other than working our asses off and getting into fights with stupid kids?"

Patty shrugged. "Kid's here for us." She pulled out two knives.

"Please tell me you're joking..."

But she spoke lightly and sincerely, just as a child: "Nah. I think he's just like we are."

"How? He's- he's..." Liz sputtered over her words. "He's the most pretentious asshole I've ever met in my life. Worse than that even. He doesn't know the world like we know it. He doesn't even kind of understand us, and he doesn't even try to _pretend_- I don't care how smart or refined or special that piece of shit is. All he cares about is his damn symmetry and _beauty. _He's-"

"Lonely."

Liz's nose crinkled in disgust. "I am not lonely. And what gives that stupid idiot the right to be lonely- look at how much he has!"

"Stop it, Sis."

The two stopped in their sandwich making process to finally make eye contact. Patty kept on, speaking both solemnly and guilelessly. "Have you tried to feel his soul yet, Liz? I have. Once 'er twice. It's _giant_. And it feels a little bit like yours, but... cooled off."

Liz began to hurriedly put two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches together, putting so much force into it she may as well been beating the bread. And Patty just watched as she let out her frustration on what would be dinner and suddenly began to cry.

"I just..." Liz sniffled, trying to pass off as being perfectly fine. "We made food all day today and I didn't want to have to come back to this giant place and make my own dinner too..." Her hands flew up to cover her face as Patty drew her in for one of their rare, but needed hugs, stroking her sister's long silky hair.

"Liz. Do you wanna stay here?"

"I'll do whatever you want to do, Patty."

"But I don't wanna stay here if you're miserable," Patty whispered. "Don't worry 'bout me for once. Let's do what you wanna do. Let's leave."

And so whilst stuffing the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in their mouths and planning their departure from Death City for good, Kid was on the opposite wing of the house, using the good mirror to talk to his father, who would be staying at Shibusen late. Evidently there was a nasty pre-Kishin burrowing around in the surrounding desert and the teachers couldn't figure out what sort of threat it posed to the people of Death City, so it was a good idea for everyone to stay indoors as a safety precaution. Kid didn't know that the girls were even home until he heard a few doors down the hall open and shut, so he took that as his cue to bid adieu to his father and go check on them.

"Elizabeth. Patricia," Kid called, knocking on their door as the sisters were pulling their coats on. Patty and Liz froze, wondering who ought to answer the door. "Girls, I heard you come in. Open up."

Liz shrugged, and figured she'd take this one, since it would be the last time she ever talked to the one, the only, Death the Kid. She ripped open the door and shifted her weight up against the door way. "What do you want?"

Kid was slightly taken aback, realizing he was talking to a girl in his pajamas while she was still in her street clothes, but he digressed. "Did you two just get home? Don't you think it's a bit late?"

Liz rolled her eyes. "Well don't you think it's a bit rude not to leave us any dinner?"

"Look, I couldn't make the plates symmetrical. There wasn't enough to make them-"

"Did you seriously throw away perfectly decent food because it wasn't _good _enough for you? Were you dropped on your head?" Liz went to slam the door, but Kid stuck his foot out to stop it.

"Wait- can I come in briefly?" He asked, hopefully masking the pain in his voice from having the door ram up against his foot.

Liz huffed before answering. "Fine. It better be quick though." She walked back towards Patty, making Kid let himself in.

Intent on keeping his distance from Liz and Patty from the opposite side of the room, Kid cleared his throat, tucking his arm behind his back."I can't give you all the details, but tomorrow no one is going to be leaving their houses. Everyone will be at home as a recommendation from Shibusen. Take it as your day off from work- all businesses will obviously be closed."

"Hmph. Whatever. Sounds good," said Liz.

"You don't sound awfully happy about having a break for once," said Kid, piquing an eyebrow.

"Trust me, Kid, I'll be a lot happier after you get out." Liz pointed to the door. Just as Kid turned to leave, Patty caught up to him and took him by the arm.

"So you think you can just come in here an' leave without even promising us breakfast in the morning?" She pseudo-scolded, tugging on Kid's arm.

"Um... sure. I'll get up early and make something for you both," Kid said awkwardly, since he had just become Patty's doll or something. "What do you both want?"

"Chocolate chip pancakes!" Patty squealed.

"Eh, that'll do for me too," Liz said, uninterested.

"Shake on it!" Patty released Kid's arm and shoved her hand in his face, just as she had when they had first met him. Kid looked between the two sisters, shrugged, and met Patty's grasp.

"Deal," he muttered. He put his hand out to shake Liz's as well before leaving them alone, closing the door with a click.

"And what was that all about?" Liz would ask Patty as they began to toss their few belongings over their shoulders and make their way out the window and down the side of Gallow's Manor.

"He's gonna wake up, go to the trouble of making all that food, and we won't be there to eat it all," her face suddenly became grave. "It's the ultimate revenge."

And as the girls scurried off, making their way through Death City until they found the exit gates, Kid was changing out of his pajamas and into his good suit. His father would be calling soon, to let him know that Shibusen had been alerted of Liz and Patty's escape due to their tracking bracelets, but Kid wouldn't answer. Instead, he grabbed his Shinigami cloak, summoned Beezlebub, and rode off after the Thompsons.


	8. Of Partners

It was a particularly stuffy night, and the gusts of wind drew up waves of sand, making them dance in swirls. The Thompson sisters could hardly open their eyes, out of fear that they'd be blinded by the specks, and wobbled with every stomp, as the ground below shook and became the air around them. It was as though as soon as they stepped out of Death City, they had emerged from some sort of force field that had spared the citizens of this sandstorm. They had come this far, hand grasped tightly in hand, tears of sand streaming from their faces, and surely couldn't return now. Liz had wanted this, and like everything else in her life, it was quickly turning into something she regretted.

No one knew they were gone, Liz thought. By the time anyone noticed, they'd be dead and gone, probably halfway submerged beneath the sand. And if they did survive, how long would it be until they found a nearby town? Liz hadn't even considered that they could be walking for days in the desert heat without proper food or water. She couldn't believe she dragged Patty out here like she had. If she had just taken the time to think about it, they could be back at Kid's house, spending another night or two in that cozy bed, with a plan to escape and survive.

After a particularly violent tremor from the ground, Patty and Liz were both thrown to the ground, unable to get regain their balance and get back up. Huddling on the ground, Patty came to a sudden realization.

"I don't think these are earthquakes, Sis," Patty whispered in Liz's ear. Liz held Patty tighter, protecting her face from the mess around them.

"What makes you say that, Patty?" Liz asked in reply. Patty rose her head just slightly, looking over Liz's shoulder.

"I read about earthquakes before. An' they don't usually happen because of big black things coming out of the sand like that thing over there," Patty said in a monotone. Liz whipped her head around to see, but immediately shielded her eyes and missed whatever it was Patty was talking about. The common pain in Liz's chest wrapped around her heart tighter. So this would be the end of the Demons of Brooklyn.

"We're gonna be okay, Patty. We're always okay," Liz said, mostly for her own mentality's sake, but Patty remained silent, looking distantly over Liz's shoulder. Liz yelped with a particularly close tremor, and yelped as the demon emerged from the ground about 20 feet in front of her- it was long, scaly, and as wide as a car, with big, razor-like teeth and tiny, beady eyes. It was unlike anything she had ever even dreamed over. It jumped in and out of the sand, like a dolphin, but circling them like it had more devious plans. For a brief moment, the demon was entirely underground, and Liz thought that it was gone. Briefly.

It rose from the ground, now a mere 5 feet from were Liz and Patty were tangled on the ground, looming over the sisters and bearing it's teeth for it's meal. Liz's whole body was succumbing to panic, as she would be facing her demise head-on, while it was Patty who was turned around, body limp, eyes glassy and unblinking.

They say in a near-death experience that your life flashes before your eyes. For Liz, this had been just one near-death experience of many; each one was the same and each one smashed this urban legend. Liz never watched her life flash before her eyes because as far as she was concerned, there was no part of it she wanted to relive. No part she felt like she wanted to see again. No part she wanted to even sort of remember. Instead, every time, she could feel her own soul- growing and expanding as though it could do something, even though it couldn't. What would her soul do to protect her? Nothing, no, instead it felt like it was taking flight, releasing itself from the abuse she had made it endure, and leaving her behind. This particular moment was the only time she almost let it.

However, there should've been a moment already where she and her sister collided with the monster's jaws, Liz thought. It should've happened already. Did she dare open her eyes? Peeking one open- it seems as though something else collided with the monster instead. A flash of black flew around it's head, smashing into it's eyes repeatedly until it was driven back into the still shaking ground. Liz shut her eyes again, still feeling the earth below her tremble and shake, signifying a still raging demon, but she and Patty were momentarily saved, and she didn't know why.

"Elizabeth, open your eyes."

Oh no. It was _that _voice. Liz thought, if only for a moment, if she didn't respond quickly, then he would just go away. But something was standing over her, keeping the sand off her face and allowing her to feel relief. And so once more, she peeked open one eye, letting out a terrified screech.

Standing over her was the stupid brat's dad- the one she had typically tried to avoid. Same jagged cloak. Same gaunt skull face. "Elizabeth, stop! It's me!" said the voice, kneeling down in front of her. Liz, now face-to-face with the figure, could make out tawny gold eyes where the endless black pit had been in Lord Death's mask. The eyes rolled, and the mask was removed, revealing the boyish face of Death the Kid.

"Kid! What the hell?! What are you doing here?" Liz shouted over the wind.

"Hmph. So that's how you're going to greet me then? Fine."

Liz huffed, trying to find it in her to be relatively kind. "How did you know we were leaving? And how did you find us?" Patty shifted, allowing herself to turn in Liz's lap and face Kid, still looking hollow.

"It was simple, really," stated Kid. "Your soul wavelengths were too excited- they haven't been that ecstatic for as long as I've known you. Additionally, we have monitors for your tracking bracelets in the house, so I just kept flying in the same line I remembered seeing on the screens until I could pick up your wavelengths again."

"You flew?" asked Liz.

Kid nudged the skateboard resting by his feet. "Beezlebub. My skateboard can fly."

The shaking below them suddenly stopped, and it seemed like the storm was letting up, but Liz did not respond to Kid.

"Look, Elizabeth, Patricia," Kid sighed. "If you don't want to stay, I understand. You can leave. Please, just let make sure you get somewhere safe."

Liz was confused by this- he didn't sound like he was pleading, he sounded very frank, but his words were begging words. Patty, still huddling in Liz's arms, began to blink.

"Why do you pretend to care about us so much?" Liz sputtered. "Why, after being distant and difficult and _fucking _demanding, do you think you can just swing in when it's convenient-"

"He's not pretending, Sis," said Patty, as the quaking below came back.

"I-I," Kid struggled to find the words. "Can't we talk about this later?"

The ground shook harder. "No!" Liz protested. "I want to know. Why do you care about us? You could find a thousand other_ beautiful _and_ symmetrical _weapons who won't put up nearly as much of a fight and instead of giving up like a sane person you just keep trying! Why? Are you crazy?"

"Is this really the time?" Kid raised his voice. The ground shook harder.

"Yes! Why haven't you given up like everyone else?!"

"Because when I touch your hands I don't feel like I have to wash mine after!" Kid shouted. Liz's eyes grew wide in realization. "I enjoy having other people in the house with me so I can feel other soul wavelengths and not feel alone! You two have something in your wavelengths... I don't know what it is, and I don't understand why, but they make me feel... relaxed. This is why I want you as my weapon partners. Are you happy now?"

Liz bit her lip. She had been awfully, awfully wrong. Patty, on the other had, just smiled like an idiot. "Told ya."

Several feet away, the demon jumped up and dipped back down into the sand. Kid, meanwhile, had returned to all business: "If we're going to get out of this alive, you two need to turn into weapons_ now_."

"But we've never tried that before..." said Liz nervously.

"Do you still not trust me, Elizabeth?" Kid asked- his eyes glowing with his typical conflicting combinations, with an addition of something new. Excitement.

Liz looked at Patty, who gave her the nod. In a snap, the two were resting as guns in the hands of Death the Kid, who pulled his mask back on and prepared to fire. And when the monster jumped from the sand, Kid was on Beezlebub, shooting at it as though this was something he had been doing his entire life.

In the days that followed, or months, and sometimes years, when people asked why they could all resonate so well, or what made them connect like they did on their first try, none could give a solid answer. Liz would just mention that coming into contact with Kid's soul was like being doused with cool water after a long run. It was like falling asleep after a particularly exhausting day. And it was the first thing Liz could think of that she wouldn't mind living through again.


	9. Of Beds

However, what Kid, Liz, and Patty did not talk about in the days, months, or years that followed their first battle together was exactly how bruised and beaten they were afterwards. For Liz and Patty, such a strong connection with a new soul was utterly exhausting, and once the pre-kishin crumbled into the sand, leaving in it's place a bright red soul, only Liz could find it in herself to crawl over and admire it. Patty, once returning to her human state, had curled up into the fetal position, trying to catch her heaving breath and overall ignoring the peculiar entity that was once a pre-kishin. Such a connection typically had a rough effect on weapons, despite they fact that they had not physically fought in battle, and without seeing, Liz and Patty could feel up and down their arms and legs several large bruises. Regardless, the two were smiling, with their first bit of real satisfaction since arriving in Death City.

"L-liz," called Kid, from several feet behind. Liz turned and gasped, finding her new meister collapsed on the ground, struggling with shaky arms to lift himself up. "Eat the soul."

Any twinge of concern Liz had felt suddenly disappeared. "You want me to _what?_"

"Hurry up before it disappears. It'll make you stronger," he mumbled, before bringing a hand up to his bleeding side, writhing in pain. "I'll explain later- just- y'know..." sitting up on his hind legs, he motioned with his free hand for her to get on with it. Beside him, still curled up in a ball, Patty giggled.

"Uh- alright then. Fine," Liz said with a gulp, taking the soul in her hand, and suddenly feeling self-conscious. Surprisingly, despite the soul being roughly the size of a softball, in slid in her mouth and down her throat smoothly, leaving a slick, toasty sensation behind. "Well _shit." _

After this, as Liz would recall, she couldn't remember anything of what happened afterwards, but she could remember waking up in her fluffy white bed back at the manor, as would Patty. Patty would try to convince them that they teleported or flew back, with the most solemn of faces followed by a shrill chortle. Kid would calmly state that he had the girls return to gun form, and when he could sense that his reaper body had healed itself enough, he had flown them home on Beezlebub. However, both Kid and Patty did admit that the memory was a bit fuzzy, so if either of them were right, they didn't know for sure. The knowledge of what really happened actually resided with Lord Death, of all people, who after searching Death City high and low for the son that did not answer his mirror calls, sent a few Shibusen teachers out into the desert once the storm subsided and Kid's soul could be detected. Once they made it to the gates of the city, Lord Death was waiting, and firmly insisted on carrying Kid the rest of the way.

Shinigami typically did not have heart attacks. Panic attacks, anxiety, sure, but nothing seemed to compare to exactly the sort of torture Lord Death had felt the night of the sandstorm. Granted, he also felt a childlike enthusiasm and a great sense of victory- Kid had never collected a soul before, and he defeated a creature he wouldn't even have allowed his students to fight! The fact that he had even managed to connect with two souls at once to fight this monster- Lord Death, to those who knew him well, could sense a conflicting feeling of overwhelming pride. That being said, he was also carrying his shaking, bleeding son, who had fainted at some point after coming a little to close to the monster's jaws. There was only so much joy to be had as he brought Kid to the school's dispensary, black hair plastered to a sweaty forehead, feeling more and more limp...

While Liz and Patty remembered nothing before waking up in their fluffy white beds, Kid's first recollection was of blinking in and out of consciousness in a stiff hospital bed, as his reaper body worked hurriedly to fix itself. The thing about being a shinigami was that while he could heal his body from what should have been devastating strikes, he could feel the healing process beneath his skin, and that was a bit disturbing or discomforting in it's own right. However, after a few hours or so, Kid's vision was beginning to become clearer as the morning sun rose.

Thus began what would become Kid's usual checklist: he wiggled his toes from beneath the sheets, mentally counting out 10. He kicked his legs lightly- both were fully functional, albeit a bit sore. Craning, his neck, he checked out his arms resting on top of the blankets- 10 fingers, two perfectly adequate arms, and even two IVs, one per arm, running symmetrically. He could still feel a little extra work going on down in his abdomen- a scar from the battle would most likely be present for the rest of the day, but as long as he didn't look at it for too long, Kid figured he'd be fine.

"Kiddo~?" Lord Death let himself in mid-checklist, carrying a small tray of grilled cheese in his giant hands. "How're ya feeling?"

"Hello Father," Kid whispered, voice still raspy. "I'm doing just fine, I think."

"I promise that weird feeling will wear off soon enough- it just means you're healing properly."

"I assumed. I still don't like it very much."

"Understandable."

Setting down the tray, and allowing Kid to reposition himself on the pillows so he could sit up, Lord Death figured it was time to parent, and in one of his rare, grave tones, he spoke quietly.

"Kid, I don't think you thought through your actions well enough last night. You were brash. I could just as easily be collecting _your _soul right now, and I don't know what I would do if I ever had to." Kid lowered his head in shame, fiddling his thumbs on the pale sheets. Lord Death suddenly remembered why he struggled with scolding. "Just... be a little more careful next time-"

"Next time?" Kid's head piqued up, eyes suddenly full of hope.

"Well sure- I'd say this was a fairly successful first mission, wouldn't you? Sure, you'll be given much simpler tasks for a while, because this was far, _far _too much, and since you have two new partners to get fully used to..."

"Partners?" Lord Death couldn't help but chuckle at how wrong Kid's assumptions could be sometimes. "So the Thompsons can stay?!"

"Well of course- I saw the battle from my mirror, you know, once we picked up your wavelength. You guys sure make a great team! I can't believe you all did so well!"

"I know! I'm still in shock too!" When Kid was especially excited like this, Lord Death noticed that he would talk with his hands. "It came so easily!"

"I saw! With a few simple missions under your belts, plus the comfort of living together- you three should be resonating soundly in no time at all!" Lord Death sighed. "Plus, it might be nice to have someone else taking care of you when I'm not. You tend to be a bit of a handful, you know."

"Father..."

"My favorite handful."

"_Father."_

"My cute little handful."

"Let's just eat the grilled cheese before they get cold."

And as they sat, talking of Kid's latest triumph and the new residents at Gallow's Manor, this became a learning experience for both father and son. While for Kid, it confirmed that his father was the greatest person on this planet, and that he was right a good 90% of the time. It also reminded him that now, if he did something reckless, two other people would be forced into that with him. However, for Lord Death, this was a much-needed reminder that he needed to slow down- slow down the excitement of progress and the pressure of Kid becoming a Shinigami and all of the knowledge that would come with it- because he feared one day, his son wouldn't be able to talk quite as animatedly. But he had to remember that with his son, he had to include two previously questionable young girls- while tonight, they had managed to overcome their rebellious and damaged natures- would it be enough? As per usual, Lord Death's doubts were extinguished, when the Thompson sisters came in to reclaim Kid and take him home, and surprisingly enough, left with each an arm draped around one another. Half in support, half in good will.

They'd be just fine.

**Author's note: I realize this chapter is one of my more ramble-y ones, but I'd appreciate the reviews nonetheless! Thanks for all the love so far, guys!**


	10. Of Topics

It didn't take long after their reconciliation in the desert for Patty to become wonderfully comfortable at Gallows Manor. Eventually, once the girls completed their tenure at the cafe and began to transition into training, Liz noticed her baby sister changing as well. She was finally putting on weight- filling in her gaunt cheeks and keeping her rough spine from being visible from beneath her t-shirts. The eyes that had once been daunting and inhuman became expressive and warm. She slept soundly in her own bed now, without any night terrors or insomnia. But most impressive of all was the change in laughter- one day in particular, when Kid was making a peculiar, disgusted face, where his nostrils flared and his eyes twitched- Patty was suddenly laughing jovially, from the gut. As opposed to that obscene chuckle, this was the shrill giggles of a little girl trapped in a teenage girl's body. Liz, through her own hysterics, saw in Patty's laugh a desire to make up for lost time. Specifically, for a lost childhood.

Which was reason enough to permit Patty to retreat into coloring books and dolls as far as Liz was concerned. She wasn't sure when exactly her and Patty had given up on school completely- whether it had been after their father had walked out, hurling a beer bottle against the front door as he left, or before their mother kicked them out on her last mental and emotional straw on account of their "gun trick"- it didn't matter. What mattered was that Patty hadn't really learned anything after pre-Algebra (if she had even bothered to learn that), so if she wanted to sit with children's books where each word was typed out in giant font, then that was her method of making up for the years of living with a poker face. All that mattered to Liz was how much Patty's whole body lit up when she offered to take her to the library on lazy Sunday afternoons, and she was impressed with how voracious Patty became for information.

It didn't take long for Kid to notice Patty making herself accustomed to this state of mind, and quickly responded by taking the girls to get their own library cards so they wouldn't need to borrow his. He went into his own personal library at the Manor and picked out a few that he had enjoyed as a child (who would've thought that the future Grim Reaper had loved Magic Treehouse books as a toddler?). And when she began to display particular interests, Kid brought it up to Lord Death, who told everything he knew to Patty, as if having it come from him was some sort of confirming end-all, be-all for a topic. Well, every topic except for giraffes.

"Kid, did you know that giraffes can swallow 12 gallons of water in one sitting?" Patty would ask.

"No, I didn't, Patty," Kid would say, with the air of a school teacher, and Patty would continue talking, and Kid would listen without displaying whether or not he was bored.

If this had come any earlier, Liz thought to herself, she might've been jealous of the brother-sister relationship Kid and Patty were quickly forming, and how dependent they were becoming on the squeaky-voiced 12-year-old. But since their last month together had been (more or less) harmonious, and Liz found herself warming up to Kid as well, she let herself smile when she found the pair reading together, or when Kid had to excuse himself when Patty had drawn something asymmetrical. They were closer in age- Liz supposed- of course they would become closer sooner than her and Kid would. And besides, the trio spent their whole day together, which meant sooner or later, her and Kid would be just as tight. The daily routine depended on it.

They would wake up, get something to eat, make sure the house was in order (which varied based on the day), train in the gyms by Shibusen, come home, make sure they were in order, and roam for the rest of the day until Lord Death returned for supper. It was the consistency Kid needed, along with the freedom the girls needed, and it worked.

One day specifically, during the hours that Patty had to herself, she fancied herself a tour through Gallows Manor, as she usually got lost, and could be found in the same few rooms. It seemed that at every turn, there would be two more corridors to go down, and at every door, an opportunity to explore. Most doors were utility closets (because if Kid needed to clean something immediately, then he wouldn't have to go over to the other side of the house to grab it), although one led to a giant ballroom with an upper balcony and piano, and a few more led to various bedrooms, bathrooms, or the occasional boudoir. It was all just a simple guessing game, sliding up and down on the black wood floors in her socks, until Patty stopped at a door with a name plate on it.

_Death's Study_

It didn't even occur to her that she could be snooping, or that she could get caught- Patty took hold of the door and whipped it open. As far as she was concerned, this was just another opportunity for Patty to learn about some of her favorite things: Lord Death and Kid.

What greeted her almost disappointed her: another long corridor. What was special, however, was that the walls were painted a deep black. Kid had said, when Patty asked if she could paint her room, that none of the rooms in the house were painted anything other than shades of white (but perhaps he could permit a pale yellow). But here she was, looking down some endless abyss, hesitant until she took a step and a set of lights flickered on- illuminating the first six feet in front of her. Now, on the walls, were pictures, all in black and white, hanging in slate picture frames of various sizes. Patty giggled with delight, running up and down the corridor, making all the lights turn on, so she could see every picture. In some frames were the annual Shibusen staff photos, full of people Patty didn't know. In some, were Lord Death and various other unrecognizable, although unique faces. There was a monkey and a giant teddy bear in one. A candid with Lord Death and a laughing couple on what was presumed to be their wedding day was close by. Some were of various young people who looked like they were from the 1800's, with their fancy dresses and dapper ties. But Patty's favorites to find were the ones of Kid, which with the color scheme, blended in with all the others. The first one she thought was of him was of a little baby, where he had the same piercing eyes, but on a chubby, precious little body. This illicted a loud guffaw from Patty.

There was another of him, only slightly smiling, beside an old, grave woman, with long braids and a patterned dress. It was funny to Patty, that he didn't have his hated lines on his hair yet, so she laughed a little bit more.

Finally, she came to her favorite- where Kid had his hair grown fairly long, hanging past his ears in disarray, sinking in one of his rare t-shirts. He held up one of those bottled ships- which he should've been justly proud of- smiling a big smile filled with _braces_.

Death the Kid had braces. The son of the Grim Reaper needed braces. Braces.

Patty was rolling on the floor when she was discovered by Kid and Liz.

_"Patty!" _Kid squeaked, as it had suddenly begun to do when he yelled. "What are you doing in here?!"

Through fits of laughter, Patty said: "The door didn't-hic- say-hic- that I couldn't come in!"

"It's _implied, _Patricia," Kid said, furrowing his brow and rubbing his temples. "This is my dad's quiet place- one does not just barge in..."

"Let it go, Kid," Liz shrugged. "She seems to be having a lot of fun."

"I can see that. What is it you're laughing at, Patty?" Kid asked petulantly. Patty just pointed from where she was on the floor. When Liz picked out the picture in question, she herself lost it and began to crack up too.

"Oh my god- you had braces?!" Liz cried, as Kid's normally pale face abruptly turned a vibrant red.

"...my teeth were becoming uneven. I needed to get them straightened so my jaw wouldn't..."

"You had braces! Death the Kid had braces!" Patty squealed. Kid just sighed.

"Yes," he said dryly. "I had braces. Happy?"

"Hey Kid," said Liz. "In this one, you're next to this old woman- who is she?"

"Oh, that's Mira. She was the nanny I had for a long while. I usually just called her Grandma. That's what she felt like, I suppose."

"You don't have grandparents?"

Kid raised an eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious. "No. Just my dad."

"No mother?"

"No. He didn't need one to have me."

Liz had to keep herself from cackling, as she thought that might be rude, but she reminded herself to ask Kid one day how exactly Shinigami were born without a mother. But instead she pointed to another picture with Lord Death and a very young Kid in a room full of clouds. Patty giggled when she saw.

"That's the Death Room at Shibusen. It's like my dad's office at the school."

"Why do you call Lord Death "dad" when you're with us, but you call him "father" to his face?" Patty asked, lying like a starfish on the floor.

"Um. I'm not sure. I didn't realize I did that..."

"He's your only family?" Patty continued.

"Yes, Patty."

"But he works everyday."

"He does."

"So you grew up in this giant house all by yourself without an older sister to play with you?"

Kid fell silent for a moment. "Yes, Patty. That is true."

"So if Sis and I are here now, and we're kind of like sisters to you too, then do we get to be on the wall too?"

Kid raised his eyebrows, taken aback by the sharp turn in conversation. "I'm sure," he said. "In time, probably once we start picking up missions and I make you two Death Scythes."

"Hear that Liz? We get to be pictures too!" Patty squealed. "Pictures! Pictures!"

The trio went through the numerous photos hanging on the wall for the next few hours: Liz asking thoughtful questions, Kid answering each one, and Patty appreciating that the two noticed her absence and decided to come find her together, leading to this fun time between the three of them. After all, her beautiful sister, Kid, and Lord Death were easily Patty's favorite topics.


	11. Of Clothes

The morning had been ruined by an exceptionally unsuccessful mission that had subsequently ruined the attitudes of Kid and Liz for the rest of the day (naturally, Patty was excluded from this dark cloud). It was one of their first together, and while the previous few had left them more or less unscathed, this one had left the trio particularly bruised and beaten. As to why they were had been so crushed- well, it depended on who was asked. Kid complained that his balance was off for a reason he couldn't explain; Liz, uncertain with how to deal with Kid when he got like this, made the mistake of losing her temper as a tentacle swiped at her meister's feet while he wasn't looking. He then, in turn, raged about how he couldn't continue to fight if he was off balance, and that he was _clearly _inadequate in every way. She then, agreed that he was inadequate, and reminded him that he would always be off balance because of the stripes on his head. He yelled at her, she would yell louder, and ultimately, the feud ended with Kid dropping both guns, and walking away silently, leaving both weapons and the pre-Kishin speechless.

And this silent treatment built a wall of tension between the two well into the evening, where, surprise surprise- Lord Death had planned a small get together in the ballroom with a series of important officials from eastern European countries, where a new Weapon-Meister headquarters was being built. And when Lord Death said "small", he generally meant 100-200 people. And for a particularly fancy party of 100-200 people, one was expected to look and dress properly. Well, Liz noted, she had her sister had purple splotches trailing way up their limbs, and had only made small clothing purchases since arriving in Death City, still wearing a lot of their clothes from New York, none of which were appropriate for such an event.

"We have no clothes," Liz muttered, rapping on Kid's door a few hours before the guests were supposed to arrive. She tried to enter as well, but found that the door was dead-bolted.

"That's not true- both of you have clothes. You wear them all the time," Kid said in a dull tone, not bothering to come and open the door himself.

"You know what I mean. All of our clothes are a pinch too casual for this kind of thing. Unless you really want us to show up in jeans and tank tops."

"Did you check any of the boudoirs around the house? They're filled with clothes."

"Yeah Kid, filled with _men's_ clothes. I'm not wearing a tuxedo, Kid. Neither of us are wearing suits," Liz huffed.

"I don't see a problem with wearing a suit to a formal event…"

"Because you wear them all the time!" Liz groaned, turning away from the door to stomp her feet before turning back around to try and reason with Kid. "We. Need. Nice. Dresses."

At first, Liz's demand was met with more of the silent treatment, making her heart well in rage, but after a few moments she heard a bit of rustling from behind the door, followed by a few footsteps. A small wad of cash was slid from beneath the door. "Go find yourselves something then. And try not to embarrass me."

"_Embarrass you?" _Liz kicked the door in frustration. "Yeah, as if being _asymmetrical_ is something to be embarrassed about. Please. If anyone ought to be embarrassed it ought to be me, because my meister is a snobby little _baby!"_

Liz heard nothing but a loud sigh from behind the door, and for a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach.

"I really hope that kick didn't leave a mark on the door, Elizabeth…"

"_You're impossible!" _Liz shouted, sweeping down to grab the money before stalking away. The stalking didn't stop once she hit her room, of course, or when she grabbed Patty by the arm and dragged her out the door. The stalking didn't end until she found what was perhaps the dress of her dreams, and potentially, Kid's worst nightmare.

* * *

The party began at 8 o'clock sharp, as parties at Gallow's Manor always did, but Kid couldn't help but feel like something was off as he stood in the corner, tapping his foot. Something was missing- specifically, _they _were missing. He had peered behind his door when he had heard the familiar patter of faux leather boots on the floor- Liz and Patty- and briefly saw them waltzing past, giggling with bags in hand. Since that moment, about two hours ago, the pair hadn't emerged, leaving Kid on his own to fend of questions about his new partners and how he was progressing or if he'd be starting at Shibusen soon. Kid preferred not to be surrounded by a large number of people, but could handle it better, admittedly, than he did a lot of other things. He could handle the crowds better than punctuality, for instance. Better than insolence and rude comments about his stripes, additionally.

Kid was more than a little bit frustrated with Liz at this point, but when she and Patty had finally decided to join in the festivities after at least a half an hour, Kid's heart nearly stopped.

The dress Liz had decided on was a striking cerulean, covered in sparkles of various sizes- probably strapless, but her arms and shoulders were covered by a black sweater, to cover the bruises from the mission earlier in the day. The dress tightened particularly around her waist and hips before descending into a sheer train that ended at her ankles, where the strappy, black heels had begun, easily making her another head taller than Kid. It wasn't until Liz took a step that Kid's heart started beating once more as he noticed the slit in her gown- which had been solely on the left and without a matching one on the right.

Patty's dress- which was pink and ruffled, ending just above her knees- paired with her white sweater, was thankfully completely symmetrical. But the fact that one would be standing to his left, and the other to his right, and _this _is how they decided to look... Clearly this had been some sort of jest by Liz to get back at him for his fit earlier in the day. But whose to say this wouldn't lead to another fit? Another boiling rising from his stomach in front of a whole room of people. Kid mentally shoved down the feeling, and tried to keep his face straight as the sisters approached him.

Patty laughed loudly. "Kid, why does your face look so funny? You look like you're smelling something bad!" Oh no. He failed.

"Jeez Kid, we get it," Liz smirked, rolling her eyes and flipping her long hair behind her. "You don't have to look so disgusted."

"...what did I tell you before you left?" Kid said in a near whisper, quickly shutting his eyes, as though not looking at the situation would make it go away.

Liz just huffed in response. "Serves you right. Like, I'm trying to feel bad over here, but-"

"Perhaps you should be a little more gratuitous, street rat, to the young reaper that saved you and your sister from a meaningless existence." Kid's eyes whipped open in the direction of the comment. The accent voiced dripping with snobbery and pride belonged to that of a tight looking woman, with a long pointed nose and acute eyebrows- making her bare a bit of a resemblance to a crow.

While Liz and Patty attempted to pick their jaws up from the floor, Kid just shook his head in an attempt to collect his thoughts. "I apologize- but who are you?" he said in a volume only he could really hear. What was unique about the sisters, as Kid would come to find in this moment as well as many later in their partnership, was the way they flipped personalities when faced with a threat head on like this. It was Patty who would become aggressive and domineering, ready to strike anyone who threatened her beloved sister in a heartbeat.

"What the hell did you just say about my sister, you ugly old hag?!" Patty sneered, cracking her knuckles like walnuts.

"Young master, if I may," the woman continued, smiling contemptuously at Kid. "If I had talked to my meister the way these girls speak to you, and you especially, I would've been deserted right away. You should learn it now before it's too late- trash should be left on the curb where it belongs." A series of snickers from the surrounding officials rang out before they all clearly became bored and returned to the little circle they had created.

It was Liz, however, who had to blink back tears and a strong desire to curl up and cry like a child.

When Patty prepared to charge, Kid threw an arm out in front of her, and shot her a look that he hoped she understood as "back off" before tapping the shoulder of the crow woman before him.

"With all due respect, Ms... well, whatever your name is. I frankly have no desire to learn your name after disrespecting my partners so arrogantly." Kid allowed the boiling feeling from earlier to rise and make his voice louder. "Elizabeth and Patricia are perfectly capable of making their own decisions and are far from meaningless and are the farthest thing on this Earth from _trash. _If I, and I especially, am expected to be of some sort of greatness, then so are these two." He took a step closer to the gawking woman, with a claw-like hand resting over her chest in sheer embarrassment, standing on his tip-toes so he could make perfect eye contact. "You should learn it now, although it's obviously too late," Kid's voice dropped to a whisper. "The balance of power is key, you asymmetrical piece of garbage." Okay- so that last string of words hadn't been planned, but while he was so close to the woman's face, Kid couldn't help but notice how much larger her right nostril was from her left, and they just sort of happened.

When Kid took a deep breath and readjusted his suit coat, he couldn't help but notice the stark silence in the room- suddenly realizing that everyone had been watching the confrontation. Spinning on his heel to meet the gaze of everyone, he felt an overwhelming sense of shame when he realized his father had watched too.

Lord Death, in response to Kid's look of utter terror, just shot a quick thumbs up in the direction of his son.

It took mere seconds for the conversation in the ballroom to pick back up again, leaving the trio alone with their elephant in the room to discuss.

Patty threw her arms around Kid and squealed. "Jeez Kid! You really stuck it to that ugly wench, huh?"

"Patty, don't use that kind of language towards an official. It's a bit crude..."

Liz piqued an eyebrow. "Wow- did you really just try to correct Patty after that little incident?"

Kid shrugged. "I merely spoke the truth. That woman had no right to say what she said." His face suddenly became very grim. "Although I believe I would like it very much, if you don't mind, if we were to coordinate your outfits for missions from now on." Kid said briskly.

Liz and Patty looked at each other. "Eh," said Liz. "What's another stupid rule, y'know? I don't mind."

"Neither do I!" Patty grinned. "As long as we get to dress up like _cowgirls." _

"...what?" Kid chuckled.

"Are you being serious, Patty?" Liz said, concerned, although Patty just continued to giggle, as per usual.

"So, if we have to dress up like matching cowgirls for the rest of our lives if it'll make you happy, then I want something out of this," Liz said, towards Kid.

"Of course."

"Never _ever _drop us again. Ever. For any reason- capiche?"

"...I didn't drop you two earlier, when I was mad, did I?"

"Just say capiche, equal."

"Capiche," said Kid, holding out his hand, as if they were making a deal.

Liz just shook her head. "We have a long way to go..."


	12. Of Art

Spirit Albarn supposed that he and his wife hadn't necessarily gotten everything right (they were divorced now, weren't they?), but in terms of raising their daughter, Spirit thought they had done just perfectly. Maka was incredibly intelligent, with a moral fiber beyond her years (and beyond his). She worked tirelessly at everything in her life, proof being the fact that she almost made herself a death scythe at fourteen years old. Outside of killing evil pre-Kishin regularly, Maka read and studied _for fun. _Sweet, precious, good Maka. Well-behaved Maka. Similar to her mother at this age, she could simply do no wrong (well, almost no wrong- Kami had had a bit of a, how he would put it, _naughty _streak in her... Maka obviously didn't share this streak. Obviously.)

So when Lord Death casually mentioned that she and her unmentionable roommate were to be having a party at their apartment tonight, Spirit could feel his insides fold into themselves.

"Kiddo didn't really see a point in playing with the other children when he was younger, so I'm glad he made some connections once he got comfortable at Shibusen," Lord Death beamed, as the color in Spirit's face grew fainter and fainter. "I was dubious in his enrollment, since he really didn't need it at all, but I think this has been a fruitful change, indeed."

"P-party?" Spirit sputtered.

"Yes, Death Scythe- you did hear me, right? Maka and Soul have been having regular get-togethers on Friday nights."

Oh. So there were multiple parties.

"Kid, Liz, and Patty have been going over and have come home pretty pleased. It's nice that they get to do normal, fun, teenager-y things sometimes."

Okay, so Lord Death hadn't been a teenager in... well as far as Spirit knew, he hadn't been a teenager at all. But when Spirit was Maka's age, "normal, fun, teenager-y things" had meant something very different than reading and studying- all the safe things Maka usually took part of. Additionally- she had been inviting a _boy_ over, and his two delinquent girlfriends. Alright, so that was a bit harsh. Lord Death thought similarly of his son as Spirit thought of Maka. Cute Kid and his cute little lines. Well it also took perfect, ingenious Kid a week to stop receiving failing marks in every class since he hadn't turned anything in. Sweet Kid had gotten into a fight on his first day of school. And now he was hanging around Maka?

Spirit suddenly realized that he needed to snap out of it when he had reached the point of smack talking his boss's son, a perfectly acceptable young man. Who would probably be his boss one day. As the Grim Reaper. Ruler over death.

"S-sure, Lord Death. Sounds like a ton of fun," he said through a struggling smile.

Spirit called Maka after school that same day.

"Papa? What do you want?" she answered, half annoyed already.

"What's this about you having parties and not telling your old man?!"

"Who told you I've been having parties?" Maka asked, nearly becoming shrill.

"Uh...A trusted source who decided to remain nameless!"

"I don't live with you- I didn't think I had to tell you whether or not I've decided to have people over," Maka stated, dripping impatience. "And they haven't been parties- it's just a few friends and dinner."

"Psh- that's what they all used to say!" Spirit scoffed. "How many friends is a "few"?"

Maka paused for a moment before answering. "Five, excluding Soul."

"And how many are boys exactly?"

"Papa, I live with a boy. Just a boy, and our cat. Don't you think it's a little late to be worrying about who I'm inviting over?"

"Avoiding the question- Maka, you're becoming more and more suspicious."

Maka groaned loudly through the phone. "Two, Papa. Two whole boys. One of them is Black*Star, so he doesn't even count." Spirit admitted that was true- Maka and Black*Star had been childhood friends. If he had wanted to make a move on his precious girl, he would've done it by now.

"And the other one?"

"Kid. But you already knew that, because Lord Death is your 'trusted source', and he probably went off about how he's excited Kid is integrating himself or something. Am I right?"

Spirit could admit to himself that his jig was now up, but he never passed up an opportunity to talk to Maka. "There better not be any drinking at this party!" He scolded, trying to keep the conversation alive.

"I'm hanging up now, Papa."

* * *

Fridays were both Kid's favorite and least favorite day of the week, simultaneously. On one hand, Friday meant the last day of school before the weekend. It meant that Kid, Liz, and Patty would get to go home, change into something a little more casual, and meet up at Soul and Maka's for a quaint, home-cooked meal with Black*Star and Tsubaki. Kid sincerely enjoyed the company of each of them, even the mildly (completely) obnoxious Black*Star, and in no way disliked spending his Friday nights with this new group of friends. It was that, however, the day bounced so quickly that the hour or two in between Shibusen and Soul's and Maka's apartment rarely seemed like enough time for him to recoup from the constant socialization at school and the asymmetry that was the apartment. And it wasn't their fault their living space was so inadequate to him- they did the best with what they could. It was just that, usually, before going somewhere that might be uneven, Kid liked to mentally prepare himself. Once he got there, of course, he always felt settled after some initial anxiety, but the anxiety _was_ still there.

Kid just wasn't used to the conflicting feeling of wanting something in complete confidence and still feeling anxious about it. More over, he wasn't used to treating this number of people beyond his typical "professional" relationship as friends.

"KID! Dude, come in! Make yourself at home!" Black*Star shouted as he whipped open the door to greet the trio, bouncing on the balls of his feet as they walked in. "Hey Patty! Hi Liz!"

To keep his mind off of this worry over worrying himself into a fit, Kid thought back to something that he was used to- as a child, he had done art to relieve himself of stress. It was a small secret of his, one that Liz and Patty hadn't realized until they had lived with him for a year or so, but almost all of the framed works about the Manor were done by him, and Lord Death refused to get rid of them. More often than not, Kid had broken the main rule of art and had made all of his work symmetrical. Thinking back on it was calming, as it was something he both had control over and was aesthetically pleasing.

"Where's Maka?" Liz asked, slipping off her boots.

Soul peered around the corner leading to the kitchen, wearing a frilly apron likely tossed onto him by Maka. "She ran down to grab the mail," he shrugged. "She's been expecting another letter from her mom."

Black*Star cracked up at the sight of Soul. "Dude- nice apron. Boy, for someone who claims you aren't a thing, Maka sure has you whipped! Into doing girly chores! HA!" Black*Star, Kid decided, would best be drawn with marker- a medium used primarily by children, but could still be admired for it's many colors and simple nature. Marker was completely permanent on the paper however, so every color would be felt strongly and solidly.

Tsubaki simply shook her head from her cross-legged position on the couch, taking a sip of her tea before entering the conversation, "Then I suppose I shouldn't tell them about how you've consistently done the sweeping and the dishes without question, huh Black*Star?"

Black*Star's face twisted from glee to embarrassment. "That's different! It's- uh- kind of like the Karate Kid! Y'know? Wax on, wax off!" He said, doing the hand motions as well, in an attempt to save himself.

"When we moved in together, he insisted that he do those chores specifically, since Nygus taught him how to do it a certain way. He cooks sometimes too, but instead of wearing an apron, he lets it spill all over his clothes, leaving me to get the stains out..." Tsubaki sighed. She would definitely be watercolor- capable of subtlety and complexity. It was foundational without being overbearing- it's not seen, but felt.

"Mira and Sid have been teaching me to be the best since day one! Not that I needed them anyway, I, the great Black*Star!"

"Is Nygus's first name Mira?" Patty asked, incredulously, bouncing on an armchair.. "I didn't know teachers had first names..."

"I wasn't aware her name was Mira either," said Kid. "That was my nanny's name when I was young-"

"NO WAY! How weird! Kid and I both had babysitters with the same name- is every god raised by someone named Mira, because it sure sounds like it!"

"Hey guys! Sorry I wasn't here to welcome you in," called Maka as she came through the door, carrying the mail in one hand, holding up a postcard in the other. "My mom sent me another letter! She says she's somewhere in Europe, but I can't translate the writing on the front of the card..."

Soul turned the corner into the living space, tossing the apron over a chair. "Here, lemme look, I might be able to figure it out," he asked. Maka handed him the post card, to which he crinkled his nose at in concentration. "I really don't recognize this at all. Nevermind, I guess." Soul was charcoal- rough around the edges. Potentially harsh, potentially soft. And if weld by the proper artist, could be utterly stunning.

"Here- as a shinigami, I know almost every language," Kid said, holding out a hand for the postcard. Almost was a lie. He was completely fluent in every language, but it is rude to gloat. Taking a look at the writing, he said fluidly: "_Linkiu jums čia buvo._ It's Lithuanian for 'wish you were here'."

"Pssh- there's no way I ever would've known that. And I thought I was cool for knowing bits of Welsh," said Soul.

"Soul, you just repeat what your grandma says to you on the phone. It's not that cool," Maka smirked, as Soul jabbed her in the side playfully. Maka was graphite- detailed, sharp, but able to erase and redo. Open to all, fully understood by few.

"Don't hate- that's how Patty and I learned to communicate with some of the vendors in Chinatown back in New York. They spoke in broken Mandarin, so we would speak in broken Mandarin. I could only guess how much I owed him for the chicken dumplings, and usually, he had no idea how much I handed him either," Liz said with a grin. Liz would be done in pastels- beautiful to look at, but frustrating and messy in the first attempt. Only after trying and trying, layer upon layer, does pastel reveal it's capacity.

Patty smiled widely at the sound of old memories. "That one guy had the best chicken dumplings in the whole world! They were so yummy!" Patty was chalk. When used by children, chalk was mostly think outlines of beings- squiggly and without depth. But when given to the right artist, chalk could be smoothed and and shaded and layered into real art like any other, leaving said artist covered the the colorful remnants of dust.

"Funny you say that Patty, because that's what Soul and I made for dinner!" Maka said. "Well... tried to make."

"I'm sure they turned out fine, Maka," said Kid, but when Soul began to shake his head with a wry smile, Kid became less convinced. "...take-out is always an option, I suppose."

And through the night's laughter and wandering conversation and eventual decision to order take out, the initial worry subsided, and Kid found himself fully comfortable in the company of friends. It wasn't until much, much later, on the walk home to the Manor, did he remember that he hadn't decided the medium for himself yet.

Kid decided that he would be ink. Permanent and defined, had to be diligently kept steady by the hand holding it. No doubt would that artist be stressed over it at first, but would progressively become smooth and confident.


End file.
